She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. ‘What is this proof?’ ‘I will not tell you. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. “Bother!” and decided that this was not so, and would not look to right or left again. ‘Very well, never mind. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air. But he seized the chance to entrap her fingers, fan and all, and look deeply into her eyes. Something he saw there had a curious effect upon him. He had more time for her. She was not obliged to go to the Tredgold College, because as yet the College had not settled down for the session.
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